PS 3547 
.0476 
T5 
1893 
Copy 1 





^v. 











LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

i^ap.!? Bifp^rig^i '^a 

M-^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THISTLE DOWN 



POEMS 



BY 

/ 

Julia Ditto Y6ung 

Author of "Adrift: A Story of Niagara' 



crpCoA,; 



BUFFALO, N. Y. 

PETER PAUL & BROTHER 

1893 






Copyright, 1893, 
By Julia Ditto Young. 



PRBSS OF PETBR PAUL A BROTHER, 
BUFFALO, N. Y. 



TO 

MY MOTHER, 

THIS BOOK 
IS 

L VINGL Y DEDICA TED 



" Go^ little book, and wish to all 
Flowers in the garden^ meat in the hall, 
A bin of wine, a spice of wit, 
A house with lawns enclosing it, 
A living river by the door, 
A nightingale in the sycamore^ 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 



CONTENTS 



Words, 

A Sea Change, . 

Across the Street, 

The Death Day, 

A Ruin of Delaware Avenue 

An Autumn Morning, 

The Tryst, . 

A Message, 

Unprepared, . 

A Modern Templar, 

Forewarnings, 

Two Views, 

A Rainy Night, 

In Extremis, 

An Expert Opinion, 

A Stranger's Funeral 

Expectancy, . 

Resilience, 

The Philtre, 

The Old Mirror, 

A Woodland Walk, 

Mother Earth, . 

To My Pen, . 

A Reproach, 

The State Hospital, 

A Mistake, 

Requital, 

Death's Minstrel, 



PAGE. 

13 
15 
17 
19 
21 

23 
24 
26 
28 
30 
32 
34 
36 
37 
38 
40 

41 

42 

43 
45 
47 
49 
50 
52 
54 
55 
57 
58 



CONTENTS. 



The Choice, . 

A Crumpled Rose-Leaf 

My Neighbor's Farm, 

Fidelity, , 

Risk, . 

A Question, 

A Second Marriage, 

A Summer Afternoon, 

In the City, 

Finished, . 

At First Sight, 

A Saint, . 

Consequences, 

Two Memories, . 

A Wedding, . 

A March Incident, 

A Large Contract, 

Caprice, . 

To Him That Hath! 

Unanswered, 

A Preference, 

Livingston County, 

Three Days, 

A Complaint, 

Heaven, 

Porcelain Painting, 

At Death's Door, 

A Modest Request, 

Two Friends, 

An Injunction, . 

Steadfastness, 

In the Dark, 

A Foundling, 

The Lodgers, 



59 
6i 
62 
64 
66 
67 
69 

71 

72 

73 
75 
76 

77 
78 
79 
80 
82 
84 
86 



91 
92 
94 
96 

98 
100 
103 

104 

105 
107 
109 
rro 
III 



CONTENTS. 9 


The Alternative, . 


1X2 


The Division, . 


. 113 


The Raiment, 


114 


Grimm's Fairy Tales, . 


. 115 


A Prayer Withdrawn, 


116 


A Treasure, 


. 118 


Perfection, . 


119 


A Coquette, 


. 120 


A Rondeau, . 


121 


Hindrances, 


. 122 


A Likeness, . 


123 


A Love Song, 


. 124 


After the Party, . 


125 


The Difference, 


126 


The Truth, . 


127 


In a Look, 


. 128 


Death's Distinctions, 


130 


Flowering Currants, . 


. 132 


A Poor Girl's Funeral, . 


nz 


With Leaves in a Letter, 


' 134 


Thistle Down, 


135 


The Elmwood Avenue Bridge 


• 137 


At Twilight, 


139 


SONNE 


rs. 


Becalmed, 


• 143 


The Prism, . 


144 


A Diamond, 


. 145 


Indifference, 


146 


The Swimmer, . 


• 147 


QUATRA 


INS. 


A Wish 


• 151 


The Motto, . 


151 



CONTENTS. 



After Music, 

Blank Paper, 

Woman's Love, 

A Letter, 

Conscience, 

Limitations, . 

Consoled, 

Self-Sufficing, 

Purity, 

A Comet, 

A Fair Day, 

A Rainy Day, 

Mutability, 

The First Duty 

Love, 

Authorship, . 

Verse and Prose, 

Paralysis, 

Counter Currents 

Calamity, 

The Weapon, 

Surrender, . 

The Raising of the 

A Spendthrift, 

Open Sesame ! 

A Suicide, 

A Proof, . 

In an Album, 

An Idle Day, 

The Arrow, . 

My Pets, . 

Good- Will, . 



Dead 



POEMS 



WORDS. 



WORDS. 



T T galls my soul to hear men say 

How weak is language and how poor, 
So dense that half their mind must stay 

Enmeshed within its net obscure, — 
A stone too rough and coarse to build 

For lofty thoughts a temple meet, 
A chalice frail, that, passion -filled, 

Must break and spill its contents sweet. 

Not so I find it, — surely all 

I think I lack not words to frame. 
The birds come flying at my call, 

Aflutter, warbling, wild or tame ; 
Bright fabrics I delight to sew 

Surround me, — would I could beheve 
My thoughts deserved the outward show 

And brilliance of the garb I weave ! 

Many a poet wins no heart 

Because of any meanings high, — 
'Tis only that he hath an art 

Of linking words that will not die, 
That in the memory chime and swing, 

And loiter in the dullest ear, 
And wile the saddest heart to sing, 

And day by day grow subtly dear. 



14 THISTLE DOWN. 

Sweet syllables of mother-tongue ! 

No master I, yet I can play 
The pulsing multitudes among, 

And marshal them in right array, 
And of this goodly earth's delights, 

Not least or lowest 'tis to me. 
To summon up the tiny sprites 

Who ever at my bidding be. 

And some shall dash and run and leap, 

Some linger like a funeral train. 
Some onward whirl in breezy sweep, 

And some lag sluggish, sober, plain. 
And some shall dance at my command. 

In spiral twining turn and wheel. 
And some shall race across the land 

Beneath a letter's sacred seal. 



A SEA CHANGE. 



A SEA CHANGE. 

CUMMER smiled upon the land 
Snowy with its miles of sand, 
Smiled and dimpled on the bay, 
Silver-smitten all that day, — 
Slow and light, a little breeze 
Wafted distant argosies. 
Taught the tiny waves to play, 
Winnowed worldly fret away. 

Sunshine, pearl and purple sea, — 
These are things that ever be 
Helpful, healing to the eyes, 
Yet not always in them lies 
Magic power and mystic spell. 
Such as on me that day fell. 
Why, because the scene was fair, 
And like nectar was the air. 
Why should all the birds of spring 
In my heart begin to sing, 
Hope put forth a timid bud, 
Joy come in a swelling flood. 
And life ''suffer a sea change 
Into something rich and strange?" 



THISTLE DOWN. 

Nay, I know not ! All I know 
Is, some virtue touched me so, 
Heaven stooped so sweetly near, 
Earth grew suddenly so dear. 
Never coming care and cark, 
Never night of utter dark, 
Rage of tempest, terror's reign. 
Sorrow, sickness, crushing pain. 
But must all tormenting cease, 
Forced to grant a moment's peace 
To the freed soul, flown away 
Back to live again that day ! 



ACROSS THE STREET. 17 



ACROSS THE STREET. 

A PATHWAY over-arched with trees, 
'^^ A stretch of meadow green and sweet, 
And passing tableaux no one sees 
But I who dwell across the street. 

My house alone commands this view 

Of sylvan shadow and retreat, 
Where maples, oaks and chestnuts grew 

While Indians lived across the street. 

And when I weary of my desk. 

Of bracing lame poetic feet, 
I watch encounters picturesque. 

And touching scenes across the street. 

For it is quite a lover's lane, 

And happy creatures there will meet, 

Unrecking of my window pane. 
And ramble on across the street. 

And some will quarrel, some will kiss. 
Some hurl reproaches, others beat 

Their breasts and madly flee ; but this 
Is seldom seen across the street. 



THISTLE DOWN, 

They chiefly walk sedate and slow, 
And drink the joy of moments fleet, 

As bees drink honey from the row 
Of hollyhocks across the street. 

What risk, what danger for them both ! 

An irate father might them greet 
With sudden curses, — nothing loath, 

I'd call ^' Fly here !" across the street. 

Ah, well ! what is it all to me ? 

My life is utterly complete. 
And yet methinks 'twere sweet to be 

A girl like those across the street. 

A foolish fancy ! well I know 

One's cake one cannot keep and eat, — 
I'll call my little son, and go 

With him to stroll across the street. 



THE DEA TH DA Y. 



THE DEATH DAY. 

Paraphrased from Thomas Hardy. 

C HE noted idly in the turn 

Of years revolving all the days 
Of birth, departure and return, 

That fix remembrance if it strays. 
Till suddenly one afternoon 

She felt a dread within her stir. 
And stared to think that late or soon 

A day would dawn — but not for her. 



That day of doom, unknown, unguessed. 

When all rebellious she must die, 
Unseen and sly among the rest 

That day went yearly circling by. 
Nor gave a token when it passed. 

To chill the blood and slow the breath, 
Nor darkly v/hispered her *'At last 

I point the way to dusty death ! ' ' 



20 THISTLE DOWN. 

She gazed into her mirror's space 

And marveled where that day lay hid, 
When supple form and sunny face 

Should perish under coffin lid. 
She might not know that fatal day, 

Nor in what year it did abide. 
But later, careless folk would say, 

'' Poor Tess ! this is the day she died !' 



A RUIN OF DELAWARE AVENUE. 



A RUIN OF DELAWARE AVENUE. 

A X /"E cross the garden, where no flower or fruit 

Now springs from out the once well-tended 
earth, 
For did a rose put out a timid shoot 

The noxious growths would strangle it at birth. 
We pass the sheds, now flanked by flaunting weeds, 

Where daily did the mansion's mistress come 
And minister most kindly to the needs 

Of all her helpless charge of creatures dumb. 

Pause now upon the threshold. All the folk 

That filled with glowing life these dusky rooms — 
It seems the cerements of the grave have broke 

To lurk once more amid these ghostly glooms. 
They clutch and snatch at us, they seem to strive 

To make us as their wretched selves to be, — 
They hate us, merely that we are alive, 

And still the sunshine and the sky can see. 

Nay, why in death should there be any fear 
Of those who were in life so wondrous kind ? 

Then enter reverently, sure that here 
Dear gentle shades, if any, we shall find. 



22 THISTLE DOWN. 

But no one greets us. Only overhead 

The echoes wake and murmur sad and low, 

And mourn a moment for a silent tread, 
And all the dead delights of long ago. 

The study, this ; — a wealth of garnered thought 

And wisdom once these stately walls did grace. 
And here it was that earnest worker wrought 

Beside his desk, while often he would pace 
From one vast window, overlooking meads 

Now white with winter, and now autumn-brown, 
Across to gaze where distantly recedes 

The wide way southward to the toiling town. 

Around the board of hospitable cheer. 

Of home the center and the very heart. 
What pleasant converse charmed the listening ear. 

Of books, humanity, religion, art? 
And in this parlor evening shadows brought 

The restful peace that night to labor owes. 
And firelight musings held them, till they sought 

The chambers sacred to well-earned repose. 

And is it wholly over? Is it fled, 

The light of influence from lives sublime? 
No, God be praised ! their precepts are not dead, 

And better is our city since their time. 
No day shall pass but that a chosen few 

Among us shall obey that noble twain — 
Because of him some lofty action do. 

Because of her from cruelty refrain. 



AN A UTUMN MORNING. 23 



AN AUTUMN MORNING. 

'T^HRICE welcome, rain ! a silver screen 

^ The outer world and me between, 
Which shuts beyond its shining wires 
All that allures, distracts and tires. 
And closes in that sweetest balm 
For wearied souls, unbroken calm ! 

Thou bringest, rain, a long, still day 
None can invade or waste away, 
Whose precious hours I will not share 
With aught save Duty, grave but fair. 

Another gift thou bringest, rain ! 
When thou hast sown thy pearly grain. 
Not brighter are the lucent skies 
Than doth my freshened spirit rise ! 
How charming, after such a day, 
To meet upon the clean, wet way. 
Half doubted friends, or even those 
Whom, ere the rain, I deemed my foes ! 
One day's secluded peace hath brought 
Such meed of clear and healing thought 
That I forgive, and hope, and smile, 
And bless the soothing shower the while. 



24 THISTLE DOWN. 



THE TRYST. 



A ND have you bided long, my pen, 
^^ And patience almost lost? 
I could not come precisely when 

I promised, and it cost 
An effort even now to slip 

Away from all my cares. 
The luscious sweets with you to sip 

That stolen honey bears. 



Oh, be not vexed and sad, my pen, 

Forgive my forced delay, 
I will not be so late again, 

I who would ever stay 
Beside you, and who have no joy 

Save in my hour with you, — 
Ah, cruel to be still so coy 

Where tenderness is due ! 



THE TRYST. 25 

I shall not be allowed, my pen, 

To seek you very soon. 
Perhaps we may not meet again 

Before another moon. 
All day tomorrow I must shop, 

The next day there's a tea, — 
The last leaves from the trees may drop 

Ere we unj^ited be. 

You leap to meet my hand, my pen. 

Alarmed at such a threat. 
The same forever used by men 

Till maidens' eyes be wet. 
But all too late you do relent, 

I hear harsh Duty's cry, — 
How wretchedly this hour was spent ! 

Goodbye, my pen, goodbye ! 



26 THISTLE DOWN. 



A MESSAGE. 

/^H, the wind among the trees, 
^-^ And the scudding clouds above ! 
Will you bear a message, breeze. 

Unto one I love ? 

Yes ? then haste in liberal sweeps 

Onward, — loiter not to play 
In the dead leaves' drifted heaps. 

But away — away ! 

On through night and tempest black 

Fly as never yet you flew, — 
Frightened, all will clear the track, 

Making way for you. 

What if he should lie asleep. 

When you breathless reach his door ? 
'Tis important, 'twill not keep, 

'Tis worth waking for ! 

Howl and whistle, rage and beat. 

Shrewdly seek each crevice thin. 
Summon aid of rain and sleet, 

Rouse him with your din. 



A MESSAGE. 27 

Wild wet wind, I trust you so, 

Bear it safely o'er the land, — 
I've not told the message ? Oh, 

He will understand ! 



28 THISTLE DOWN. 



UNPREPARED. 

T WAS not ever one of those 

Who deem the gifts that God bestows 
A right, as dew is to the rose. 

At every guerdon swift replies 
Of gratitude and rapt surprise 
Would from my humble heart arise. 

And I was happy, — naught so vain 
It could not please me, — sun and rain 
Alike brought beauty in their train. 

And as the rich Egyptian years 
Sufficed throughout a time of tears 
And soothed a famished people's fears, 

I said, '' I have so long been blest 

No future agony unguessed 

Me from my steadfast calm can wrest j 

So wondrous fair my lot is cast. 

So many years have smoothly passed, 

I well can suifer at the last, — 



UNPREPARED. 29 

When on my head the certain dower 
Of anguish with resistless power 
Descends, I will not shrink or cower ! " 

Oh, I was wrong ! the flames but singe 
My garments' hem and yet I cringe, 
Unapt to bear that primal twinge. 

Release me, God ! I do not know 
The way to suifer — let me go 
Before another hideous throe ! 



30 THISTLE DOWN, 



A MODERN TEMPLAR. 



A MID the faces of that gracious throng, 

Who fleeted thne with laughter and with song, 
An eye observant in its circling course 
Much might discern of beauty and of force, 
But they were all as common faces are, 
And one alone gleamed salient as a star. 



What history was written on this face 

One could not in a moment's study trace. 

Yet something in it thrilling echoes woke 

Of clashing horsemen and of splintered oak, 

Of battered helmet and of dented shield. 

Of deeds heroic on a hard-fought field, 

Of that long-past and half- forgotten day 

When passion, chivalry, romance held sway. 

And life than ours was simpler, yet completer, 

The blood more swift, blows fiercer, kisses sweeter. 

It was as if some knight of long ago. 
Some Templar of the time of Ivan hoe. 
With head uplifted and with bearing proud 
Had mingled with this merry modern crowd. 



A MODERN TEMPLAR. 31 

It seemed this face its somber dark had won 

In Holy Land beneath an Orient sun, 

And yet this bronzing only half concealed 

A pallor telling of old Avounds unhealed. 

Not over young he was — a silver thread 

Blent with the sable cover of his head ; 

And grave was he, and something heavy browed. 

Though ever, as out from a midnight cloud 

The lightning's glow illumes the gloomy scene. 

His smile flashed sudden, brilliant, rapier-keen ; 

But yet he smiled not oft ; one might believe 

That for lost men-at-arms their chief did grieve, 

Weary to death of this ignoble life, « 

And yearning, heartsick, for the ancient strife. 



32 THISTLE DOWN. 



FORE WARNINGS. 



A LL day there had been something eerie, 

Uncanny and weird in the air, 
The heavens hung cloudy and dreary. 

No glimmer of blue anywhere ; 
The wind had the howl of a dragon, 
And hideous the thunder did roll, 
And even the creak of a wagon 

Sent chills to my soul. 



The postman brought not the one letter. 
That might have redeemed the whole day 

And such as he brought he would better 
By far have torn up on the way ; 

A black cat I met, and yet maybe 
I still had averted my doom 

Had not the cross-eyedest baby 

Augmented my gloom. 



FOREWARNINGS. 

Then people said things just to spite me, 
And darker my fortune did frown ; 

It needed no more to affright me, 
When thirteen at table sat down. 

And then 'twas the kindest of brothers, 
Not meaning at all to be rude, 

Advised them to fly me, those others, 
For I was hoodooed ! 



And yet would you believe it ? — it staggers 
My faith in all omens and signs. 

In portents of coffins and daggers, 
In warnings my spirit divines, — 

No evil befell, and a blessing 

It was that the even time brought, 

A joy I scarce dreamed of possessing, 

And hopeless had sought ! 



33 



34 THISTLE DOWN. 



TWO VIEWS. 



/^F all the glories Heaven showers 
^-^^ Upon this happy earth of ours, 
The one unstinted, wholly free 
Alike to kings and peasantry, 
Is love, sweet love, that like the sun 
Its radiance sheds on every one, — 
Yes, like the pink wild rose in June, 
The silver splendor of the moon, 
The dappling of the blue, bright sky. 
The carol of the birds on high. 
The currents of the clear fresh air. 
Love finds and feeds us everywhere. 



II. 

Oh, God ! why is it Thou hast made 
This earth so hideous, hast displayed 
Thy terror and the fear thereof, 
And anguish, and not any love ? 
Is love, then, even in heaven so rare. 
The angels could no portion spare ? 



TIVO VIEWS. 35 

Scarce is there any desert land 
Without a fountain in the sand, 
Nor any rock so bleak and bare 
That moss can find no footing there, — 
But love, dear love, that gem unique 
Through barren years we vainly seek, — 
For lack of it we faint with thirst. 
For lack of it lead lives accursed, 
Until we die, unmourned, alone. 
Die dreaming of a bliss unknown. 



36 THISTLE DOWN. 



A RAINY NIGHT. 



13 LACK against the murky sky 

Oak trees toss their branches bare, 
While the last leaves riven fly 

On the wet and whirling air ; 
Rain like swift descending lash 

Beats the cold and sodden sward, 
And the wild keen lightning flash 
Cuts the darkness like a sword. 

God be thanked for night and storm ! 

'Tis a blest relief to know 
Nature hath the power to form 

Other things that suffer so, 
Things besides my tortured heart. 

Torn with infinite despair, — 
Tempest, I of thee am part, 

And thy maddened ragings share ! 



IN EXTREMIS. 37 



IN EXTREMIS. 

T F the world were about to end, 
'■' And its doom were known to you 
Tell me, O timid and soft-eyed friend, 
What would you do ? 

I would seek out one I know. 
And say what I never can say, 

And little I'd reck of humanity's woe, 
In that sweet day. 

For to me his glad reply 

A thousand times were worth 

Seeing mankind in agonies die. 
And ruin of earth ! 



38 THISTLE DOWN. 



AN EXPERT OPINION. 



T HAVE studied the stars till I'm tired of the creatures, 
■^ And have mastered the subject, I really think; 
I'm familiar with each shining orb's special features, 

As to when it should rise and just how it should 
wink. 
Yes, I've pondered the subject exhaustively over, 

In my lonely veranda this long summer past. 
While the zephyrs were sweet with the odorous clover. 

And the bicycles fluttered by, silent and fast. 



Would you know the conclusion I've come to concern- 
ing 

These distant and terrible neighbors of ours? 
That with all of their brilliancy, beauty and burning, 

Their dimensions stupendous and infinite powers. 
Neither they nor their planets that circle and hover 

Undiscerned all these millions of years since their 
birth, 
Can as places of residence ever discover 

The advantages held by this dear little earth. 



AN EXPERT OPINION. 39 

We have trouble, of course, and there's sickness and 
sinning. 
Dissensions, delays, disappointments, and jars. 
But there's ever some good to be had for the winning, 
And perhaps that is more than they have in the 
stars. 
Or perhaps they have nothing but good, and how 
deadly 
The dullness of such a condition must be ! 
Who would not prefer the magnificent medley 
Of anguish and joy we are fated to see ? 

Do they hate with our ardor, enjoy with our fervor. 

Do they love with such exquisite rapture and bliss ? 
As a candid, albeit a distant observer, 

I deny that the star-people know how to kiss. 
And indeed, were I proffered existence immortal, 

To be on a star through eternity whirled, 
I'd promptly decline to pass over the portal. 

Nor risk any change from the things of this world ! 



40 THISTLE DOWN. 



A STRANGER'S FUNERAL. 

T WISH it had not passed just now ; 

I was so happy till it came, 
And now, wet-eyed, I wonder how 

Not anything is still the same. 
Before, I saw no brown and red, 

Sad Autumn's hints, across the way ; 
A bird was singing, — overhead 

I wist not that the blue grew gray. 

I wish indeed you had not died, 

Poor brother whom I never knew ! 
For had you lived, the world is wide, 

And many a joy awaited you, — 
Sweet April's buds and rains and rills. 

The merry sports of winter-time, 
A moonlight glory on the hills, 

And sacred bells in far-off chime. 

And did I grudge the very road 

Down which the modest cortege went 
That bore you to your last abode, 

To exile and to banishment? 
Forgive me, brother ! I shall keep 

A thought of you perhaps for years, 
When other eyes that still should weep. 

Long since have dried their futile tears. 



EXPECTANCY. 41 



EXPECTANCY. 



4 i 



D OBIN HOOD " you've heard often before, 

It's a bother infernal to dress, 
And the whole thing is rather a bore. 

You'd prefer to stay home, you confess, 
And upon the last '' Century " pore, — 

And do not I agree with you ? Yes ! 



As a rule, home is best, but tonight 

I've a fancy to go just for this : 
Who knows but this evening one might 

Hear a strain that would raise one to bliss, 
Share a thrill of ecstatic delight 

One would not for diamonds miss ? 



Or tonight, 'mid the glitter and song 

One may glimpse (Fortune grant it be so !) 

A dear face in the palpitant throng, 
And the music will suddenly grow 

Like the strains which to seraphs belong, — 
Come, brother ! you cannot say no ! 



42 



THISTLE DOWN. 



RESILIENCE. 



T 1 rHAT is it forms the keenest pang in sorrow? 
^ 'Tis that we know the peace for which we pray- 

Too soon arrives, — today, tonight, tomorrow, 
The woe most bitter will have passed away. 

Ah, shame ! that even while we prate of losing 
Not joy alone, but life and reason dear, 

And spurn all comfort, and are still refusing 
Surcease of anguish, suddenly 'tis here ! 

Too well the swimmers breast the whelming surges. 
Too callous are we, and too cruel-strong. 

And mingled with the swell of funeral dirges 
We mark the ripple of a marriage song. 



THE PHILTRE. 43 



THE PHILTRE. 

/^H ! I utterly despise 

^^ Modern means of luring love,- 

Just to wear a gown you prize 

In the hue he's fondest of, 
Just to relish all his wit, 

Smile or sigh at his command. 
Study up his work a bit, 

Be it leather, law, or land ! 

Where are all the wizards fled 

Who for maids forlorn would brew 
Queerest mixtures black and red. 

Mingled rosemary and dew. 
Blood and bones, a frog or toad, 

Easter water, gallows-chain. 
Horseshoe found upon the road. 

Straw where murderer hath lain ? 

Well ! they say that never man 
Lived who could the charm resist, - 

To the eager lass he ran. 

And her laughing lips he kissed. 



44 THISTLE DOWN. 

Ah ! could love or money bay 
Such a potion nowadays, 

Who would not its virtue try 
In the ancient secret ways ? 

Yet a philtre still there is, 

Not the gross and vulgar style : 
Let your heart that seeketh his 

Dwell upon him all the while, 
Love him to the depth and height 

Of your nature fresh and free. 
And at last in sudden might 

Richly it returned shall be. 



'Tis a risk ? he would not know ? 

Why, my dear, your face would lurk 
Everywhere that he might go. 

Drift between him and his work. 
Till at length he flings it down. 

Since it will not come aright. 
Thinking, "Is that girl in town ? 

Anyway, I'll call tonight ! " 



THE OLD MIRROR. 45 



THE OLD MIRROR. 

T_T OW often has the fancy crossed 

My mind that never wholly lost 
Are images that once have been 
Thy silver depths reflected in, 
And that from thee, could but we tell 
The words of some weird chanted spell 
Unwritten now in any book, 
Dear faces once again might look, 
Blest visions of the vanished past, 
A moment in thy surface glassed. 

And of the myriad dead but three 
Are they I deeply long to see, — 
A man so sudden called to die 
There was not time to say good-bye ; 
A maid who life such beauty lent 
The sun is dimmer since she went ; 
A child, — would God that little child 
Might smile as all his life he smiled. 
And let me know if still there lies 
A joy and sweetness in his eyes. 



46 THISTLE DOWN. 

Alas ! they come not forth to quell 
My longing, and the potent spell 
Lies not in sad and aching heart, 
Nor in the hot and bitter smart 
Of tears, for even as I gaze 
The mirror melts into a haze 
Beyond a misted veil of tears, 
And still I gaze, and naught appears. 



A WOODLAND WALK. 47 



A WOODLAND WALK. 



TIT^ROM out the hated turmoil of the highway, 

Where crowds of sad and weary wanderers are, 
Two pilgrims slip adown a shady byway, 

A little unknown way that leads afar. 
No noise invades the forest's dim recesses, 

Only the leaves' cool murmuring is heard, 
The brook's low laughing to its moss and cresses. 

And now and then a golden throated bird. 



And Oh ! the peace and rest beyond expressing. 

Those mortals win amid the vernal calm, 
Where every breeze is laden with a blessing, 

And every blossom breathes assuaging balm. 
And Oh ! the rapture merely to be living 

From hour to hour in this twinned solitude, 
The sympathy now gaining and now giving. 

That lifts and lightens every passing mood. 



48 THISTLE DOWN. 

But on this path there never is undoing 

Of taken steps, nor any going back, — 
It is as if a wizard were pursuing, 

And closed with thorns and twisted vines the track. 
Perchance those two shall reach a land of burning, 

A black hot land where bitter water lies, 
Where shade nor shelter is for all their yearning, 

Nor any love-light in once tender eyes. 



MOTHER EARTH. ^9 



MOTHER EARTH. 



C WEET herbs of healing did we plant 
"^ Within our tiny garden's space, 
And prayed that later earth would grant 

To us their remedy and grace, 
But as we toiled and turned the ground. 

And of the fruitful future planned. 
Our hearts beat with a fuller bound. 

And stronger grew each arm and hand. 

And then we smiled to think that earth. 

Too kind, too generous to delay 
And so increase her bounty's worth. 

Did haste her new-made debt to pay, 
And ere we had the simples fixed 

That would next year our drugs have been, 
Such rich elixir earth had mixed, 

We had no need of medicine ! 



50 THISTLE DOWM. 



TO MY PEN. 

"\T AY, not so fast ! a mettled steed thou art, 

And swift to dash across the wide white plain, 
But ere we on our morning's journey start, 
Let us resolve some certain point to gain. 

It matters not what road we shall pursue, 
The bosky aisles of forests cool and dim, 

The city streets, the shores of ocean blue. 
Or up the rocky steeps of mountains grim. 

It boots not if we dip in old romance, 
Or weave a rhyme to lull a babe asleep, 

Or sing the trifling pleasures of the dance. 
Or tell of happiness serene and deep. 

But we must reach at eve the goal Content, 

By level or by labyrinthine way. 
And feel the bygone hours were not illspent. 

Nor wasted so we may not humbly say : 



TO MY PEN. 51 

'*A word there was with loving-kindness fraught, 
A hint that might a drooping faith renew, 

A plea for softer speech, for purer thought, 
A message hopeful, or a warning true." 

And were no man helped onward for a mile. 
No fainting brother lifted from the dust, 

No wan face won a moment to a smile, — 
'Twere better, pen ! we should forever rust ! 



52 THISTLE DOWN. 



A REPROACH. 



T T was not much I asked of you, — 

The mere unvalued dregs and crumbs 
Of that rich banquet whereunto 

A starving pilgrim never comes 
To sit in honor, but doth wait. 

The while Life's feast is amply spread, 
As may a beggar at the gate. 

The rain-storm beating on his head. 



Oh, I was weary, sad, alone ! 

I hoped — how vainly ! that you might 
Compassionate my stifled moan. 

And give me shelter for a night, 
And charm away this sullen ache 

That rankles ever in my breast, 
And pour some wine my thirst to slake. 

And speed and cheer me on my quest. 



A REPROACH. 53 

But no, — you were not sweetly stirred 

By gentle Pity's mild command, 
You did not speak the longed-for word, 

You frowned upon my outstretched hand. 
A bitter pang it was, indeed, 

The bitterest I ever knew, — 
I pray to God that in your need 

No friend may ever so fail you. 



54 THISTLE DOWN. 



THE STATE HOSPITAL. 

A GAINST the warm, wide, wholesome blue, 
Two red-capped towers close my view. 
And birch-trees, pines, and daisied green 
Of meadows only intervene ; 
And ever in a cloudy day 
The red roofs glow against the gray ; 
And ever in the mirkest night 
The hundred windows flash with light, 
Nor does it fret me thus to see 
That home of utter misery. 
For well I know that gentle care 
And anxious thought are lavished there, 
And all that underneath the sun 
Skill can accomplish will be done. 

And every morn I northward send 
A hope that ere the day shall end 
Some poor, distracted, darkened mind 
A glimmer of the light may find ; 
Some torn and tortured soul may win 
Relief from cruel strife within ; 
Some soldier fallen to the rear 
A thrilling bugle blast may hear. 
Resume among the ranks of men 
His place, and forward march again. 



A MISTAKE. 55 



A MISTAKE. 

HP HAT is what they call it when 

^ Half-read words or blinded light 
Plunge a hundred hapless men 

Into death's eternal night — 
Soothe the wail and still the curse, 

And for fate allowance make, 
Willful negligence were worse — 

This was only a mistake. 

So your heart you wrongly read, 

Misconstrued its quickened beat, — 
'Twas but friendship's glow instead 

Of pure passion's wild white heat ? 
It is well that you have won 

Early knowledge of the flaw 
In your love — from scarce begun 

Games one safely may withdraw. 

But myself ! A black eclipse 
Darkens deep into my soul, 

While you press unto my lips 
Steadily the poisoned bowl. 



56 THISTLE DOWN. 

Would to God that in the cup 

Lurked some bane my heart to break, 

Swiftly would I drink it up, 

And have done with your mistake ! 



REQUITAL. 57 



REQUITAL. 



A S unawares, in ancient fairy lore, 
'^^ One kindly lodged and fed a wandering witch. 
And rose to find beside his couch a store 

Of coin and gems that made him sudden rich ; 

So I, to help a fellow creature's need, 
Not looking for reward, gave of my best, 

Of love and sympathy a generous meed, 

And found myself an hundred-fold more blest. 



58 THISTLE DOWN. 



DEATH'S MINSTREL. 



'\A7'HY do I meditate and write 

On death, and scarce aught else at all ? 
Perchance his hand is raised to smite 
And stifle me in dusty pall. 

I hear the shivering droop and lift 
That shudders in his sombre wings ; 

I see him slow and solemn drift 

Above the beds of priests and kings. 

But me he spares ! The monster grim 

Rejects not flattery, that is why ; 
And while I seek to honor him, 

Whoe'er he summons, 'tis not I ! 



THE CHOICE. 59 



THE CHOICE. 



OH, how sweet it is to think 
I am at my desk once more, — 
Silver holder, purple ink, 

Virgin pages, pens galore, 
Wait their pleasant task— to link 
Words to thoughts that upward soar. 

And the topics, — how they press, 
Claiming each to be my choice ! 

Time hath been, I must confess, 
I could heartily rejoice 

At such ample option — yes. 
Speedily give each a voice. 

But today the sun shines bright. 
Glowing on each golden tree. 

And the falling leaves invite 
Me their final hour to see, — 

Why should I sit here and write 
While all Nature calleth me ? 



6o THISTLE DOWN. 

Just to live is better far 

Than Life's charms in words to state, — 
Whoso beareth not a scar 

Hath no right of war to prate, — 
Dream not of some distant star. 

Rise, — go forth to love or hate ! 



A CRUMPLED ROSE LEAF. 6i 



A CRUMPLED ROSE LEAF. 

AMI sad ? I would deny 
"^^ Such a charge if I but dared, 
But with these wet lashes, — why. 

Here's the truth, — as if you cared ! 
I am sad because a thought 

Grips me like a beast of prey. 
With such haunting horror fraught 

I can drive it not away. 

This, sir, is my crumpled rose : 

I am just one evening sad 
Thinking of my sisters, those 

Who for years no joy have had. 
Women cursed with shame and fear. 

Stricken widows, unloved wives, — 
Do I owe them not a tear 

For the heart-break in their lives ? 

No, I cannot happy be 

While so many only know 
Long dull days of misery, 

Heritage of cruel woe. 
Lives so maimed and incomplete 

Heaven can never make them right, - 
Oh, why don't you go down street? 

I shall smile no more tonight. 



62 THISTLE DOWN. 



MY NEIGHBOR'S FARM. 

TT E has, forsooth, a certain yield 

■*■ ^ From each well-tilled and fertile field. 

Ripe fruit and green delicious food. 

And shelter for a multitude 

Of creatures, pasture for his kine 

And horses, — but the rest is mine. 

Yes, mine the waves of morning mist 
Where silver blends with amethyst. 
And mine the sparkle of the dew 
That glints the tangled grasses through. 
The yellow glory of the corn. 
The starry blossoms of the thorn. 
The belted bees, who daily come 
And shame me with their busy hum. 
The birds, who yearly build their nests. 
And pour rich love-notes from their breasts, 
The odors sweet of new-mown hay. 
And of crab-apple trees in May, 
And of the furrows freshly tilled. 
And of the clover honey-filled, — 



M V NEIGHB OR'S FA RM. 63 

From March, when first the elm-buds shine, 
The myriad leaves are always mine, 
And murmur softly all day long 
To me their languid dreamy song, — 
Yes, they are mine, till sadly down 
They drop in golden drifts and brown, — 
And mine the midnight silhouette 
That moonlight makes, when trees of jet 
Stand black against a silver sky. 
And swathed in snow the meadows lie. 

And so, you see, I envy not 
The wealthy owner of the spot ; 
I've thought it over, and opine 
His share is scarce so much as mine ! 



64 THISTLE DOWN. 



FIDELITY. 

T CAN never understand 

How one can extend a hand, 
Then withdraw it in a breath ; 

Such a compact may not be 

Severed, so it seems to me, 

By a slighter sword than death. 

When I say, *'I am your friend," 
Why, it follows there's an end 

Of suspicion, anger, spite, — 
Nothing all the world can do 
Renders me one whit less true, 

Not himself my love can blight. 

Say my friend neglects to call, 
Shall I chide him ? not at all, — 

Less than ever would he come ; 
Say he should forget to write. 
Shall I fancy it a slight, 

And reproach him? I am dumb! 



FIDELITY. 65 

Say that he is cold and strange, 
Shall I therefore also change, 

And be somewhat less than kind ? 
Ah, poor soul ! I cannot know 
All he has to undergo, — 

Here he shall a solace find. 

If they swear that on his head 
Lies the sin of secrets said. 

Things to be forever hid, 
Still I trust him, nor believe 
He of all men would deceive, 

And I say, '' He never did ! " 

Now the saddest case of all, — 
Should he from uprightness fall. 

Crime commit or honor lose, — 
Would I share the general scorn, 
Haste to leave him quite forlorn. 

Comfort and support refuse ? 

No, indeed ! I am not one 

In such need my friend to shun, — 

I would seek him in his shame. 
And one little word of cheer 
I would softly whisper, ''Dear, 

I shall love you just the same ! ' * 



66 THISTLE DOWN. 



RISK. 

A S some young laughing child may stand 
'^^ Rose-footed in the snowy sand, 
Nor dare for all the realm of France 
One single further step advance, 
The while with dimpling sweep and swirl 
The gentle wavelets creep and curl 
About the tender timid feet, 
To ripple back in murmurs sweet, — 
So on the brink of deadly sin 
A soul shall shrink from plunging in, — 
Yet lingers still, with smiling eyes, 
Where fell temptation darkling lies. 



A QUESTION. 67 



A QUESTION. 

T^O you recall how Shakespeare told 

^^^ Again the Eastern fable old, — 

A drunken peasant's wondrous rise, 

And sojourn in a land of lies ? 

They took him, with his senses shut, 

From out his dark and chilly hut. 

Into a palace chamber, where 

Soft music filled the fragrant air. 

And woke him gently to an hour 

Of pride and luxury and power. 

Right gayly did the peasant play 

At lordship for one little day. 

And all that he could ask or think 

Was brought him, — luscious wine to drink, 

Exotic fruit and savory meat. 

Apparel rich and tendance fleet, 

And last, when tired of song and jest, 

A bed whose very touch was rest. 



68 THISTLE DOWN. 

The game was done, — when heavy sleep 
His mind did in oblivion steep, 
They stripped him of his borrowed plumes 
And dragged him from those stately rooms,— 
And through the night air damp and raw 
They bore him to his bed of straw. 

And now, O friend ! the question's this : 
Was, afterward, that day of bliss 
A solace in his barren life, 
Or was he evermore at strife 
With fate, and did he curse the ill 
That kept him but a peasant still ? 

And so — if ever season short 

Of welcome sun should stream athwart 

A stormy stretch of leaden sky. 

Would one be thenceforth swift to cry : 

"The heavens are a deeper black 

Since I to that bright gleam look back ! " 

Or, rather, would one braver be 

Because of that brief ecstasy — 

Would one through tempest firmer stand, 

Toil onward with a surer hand. 

And say : " Though gray the clouds may be, 

I still that long-fled light can see ! " 



A SECOND MARRIAGE. 69 



A SECOND MARRIAGE. 

ONCE more her widowed halls resound 
The echo of a master's tread, 
And long-lost happiness is found, 
And newly is love's glory shed. 

And it is sweet and passing sweet 
To share the love-words long unsaid, 

And watch in later summer's heat 
A rose half perished waxing red. 

And yet — 'tis but a stolen rose 
He holdeth who was not the first 

To plant and guard it, and who knows 
Another its beginnings nursed. 

Another summoned it to bloom, 

Its dewy petals first caressed, 
And first inhaled its rich perfume. 

And wore it first upon his breast. 

And O, to think her clinging kiss 

Is verily the same she gave 
In moments of supremest bliss 

To that within its lonely grave ! 



70 THISTLE D O WN. 

Would not one hearken in the blast 
A desolate and hollow moan, 

As of a spirit flying past, 

** Alas ! I thought her mine alone ! " 

And oft that ghost might entrance win 
When heart to heart is wildly pressed. 

And say with bitter mocking grin, 
** But now I see she loved me best ! " 



A SUMMER AFTERNOON. 71 



A SUMMER AFTERNOON. 



THEY steal away, my comrades wise, 
To close in sleep their languid eyes, 
And will anon refreshed arise. 

Not I, — I only do refuse 

Soft poppied slumber, do not choose 

This vibrant golden heat to lose. 

We must perforce the season black 
Of night devote to winning back 
The forces spent in day's attack. 

But day itself, — Ah, too divine 
The glorious strain to miss a line, 
Too rare for spilling is the wine ! 

And when black Death shall o'er me lour 
I would not give the churl the power 
To say '' Thou fool, who lost an hour ! " 



72 THISTLE DOWN. 



IN THE CITY. 



T LONG to go into the country today, 

To pass the mill with its ceaseless mutter, 
And follow the stream full of boulders gray, 
Wherever the kingfishers poise and flutter ; 

To ramble into the grand old wood 

With its sweet warm scents, and find out whether 
The maples are yellowing as they should 

In these soft hours of autumn weather ; 

To gather the golden-rod and fern, 

To mark in the brook the trout's swift skimming, 
To wander along the lane and learn 

If a lilac haze the hills is dimming. 

But better methinks the dusty town, 

Where love is, than the glorious weather 

And rustle of foliage scarlet and brown. 
Unless, dear heart I we could go together ! 



FINISHED, 73 



FINISHED ! 



T HAVE said whatsoever I wanted to say, 

And I've heard many compliments pleasant to hear, 
I have frittered the whole happy summer away, 

And indeed it is time to dismiss you, my dear. 
And it isn't so often that people can turn 

Down the page, assured certainly nothing's unread, 
And it's terribly sad for old comrades to yearn. 

And to realize something remaineth unsaid. 



Well, omissions are not the things we shall regret, — 

We have talked to each other the whole summer 
through. 
All is said, all is past, and now let us forget. 

Let us part, for this autumn brings oceans to do. 
Other fields, other faces, and isn't it well 

That our fancies can veer with the altering scene ? 
But what is it you say ? that your life will be hell, 

Mad black anarchy, ruined and reft of its queen ? 



74 THISTLE DOWN. 

Why, my dear ! I'm astonished ! you never should try 

To take part in a game if you don't know the rules. 
And to swear when you're honestly beaten — O fie ! 

For shame ! was no fortitude taught in your schools? 
Never finished for you? Well, I'm sorry, but then 

I am sure I played fair, so it's your fault, not mine. 
And it's folly to say you won't see me again, — 

Come and dance at my wedding, and make not a 
sign. 



A T FIRST SIGHT. 75 



AT FIRST SIGHT. 

MANY there be who heedless meet and part, 
And meet again unwitting, with no art 
To guess that surely some fair future year 
Will find them each to each grown wondrous dear, — 
And it is only after dull delays, 
Uncertain strayings in a dreadful maze. 
And secret tears and futile struggling speech. 
And wearing fears and angers, that they reach 
Love's high serenest table-land at last, 
Their sole regret the worse than wasted past. 

Happy the lovers who look back and know 

That not an instant did they trifle so,— 

That to the roving eyes first message fleet 

Two hearts responded with a startled beat, — 

That while a bliss undreamed upon them stole. 

There came a subtle call of soul to soul. 

And, claiming kinship though the lips were dumb. 

Two spirits spoke : *'I need you ! " and "I come ! " 



76 THISTLE DOWN. 



A SAINT. 

T J NSELFISHNESS made manifest, 
^^ Whose thought is all for others' needs, 
Who daily blesses and is blest 

In chrism of kindly loving deeds, 
Nor fails to frame in gentle speech, 

With eyes serene and accents calm. 
The message love and pity teach. 

That soothes the hurt heart like a balm. 

But sometimes must not such an one 

Grow weary of the placid days. 
And wish that fiercer blood did run 

Along the hidden vital ways. 
And long to yield to anger's sway. 

To balance hatred's rankling dart, 
And helpless strive to learn the way 

To harbor murder in the heart ? 



CONSEQUENCES. 77 



CONSEQUENCES. 

/^FT a little laughing child 
^^ Wantonly with fire will play, 
By the ruddy glow beguiled, 

Till he sees with sick dismay 
Cruel flames dart swift and wild 

On their doomed and hapless prey. 

And you fancied you could flee 
If too ruthless raged the fire ? 

Why, God's earth will never be 
Aught but altar-stone or pyre 

For your heart, a misery 
Of remorse or fierce desire. 



78 THISTLE DOWN. 



TWO MEMORIES. 

J. G. L. 

A SUMMER'S day, the fleeting gleam 
"^ Of white arms glancing through a stream, 
Anon a drenched and laughing face 
Raised for a moment's breathing-space, 
And then the maiden floated, light 
As any lazy lily might. 
So close the rippled waters clung 
About that naiad, fair and young. 
So gently kissed, one might have guessed 
They loved the creature they caressed. 

A winter storm, — a darkened room, — 
A myriad blossoms' sad perfume, — 
Loose curls against a placid brow. 
Pale lips, their smiling over now, 
Small hands, quite done with work and play, 
Eyes, shut from love and life away. 
Cheeks, yester-month youth's tender rose. 
Blanched as her pall of soft, soft snows. 



A WEDDING. 79 



A WEDDING. 

T N sooth, the scene is passing fair 

This home with myriad lights aglow,- 
Commingled in a bright parterre 

The youths and maidens come and go. 
Sweet music's into service pressed, 

And roses riot everywhere. 
And — chief allurement to the guest — 

The scent of coffee's in the air. 

And two no longer merely gay 

But deeply, richly blest are there. 
Who know that sorrow's fled away 

And to return will never dare, — 
Forever gone are pain and fear. 

Swept off the earth is cursed care, — 
A pair of fools, you say, my dear ? 

Of course, — but such a happy pair ! 



So THISTLE DOWN, 



A MARCH INCIDENT. 



O O early was the spring, that still 
*^ The snow-drifts lurked beneath the hill. 
And all the meadows that I crossed 
Half humid were, half dry with frost. 
And Oh ! the sweet wet scent of earth, 
The sense of new and wondrous birth, 
The glint upon the chestnut buds. 
The sunshine in such generous floods 
That each white drift I sauntered by. 
Less white, less wintry, seemed to lie. 

But when at last within the wood 

In cloistral chill and gloom I stood. 

So dense the bare boughs' tangled shade, 

Scant progress there the spring had made. 

Long miles I'd journeyed just to look 

At one dear little laughing brook, 

And now, alas ! still winter-bound, 

It mutely slumbered in the ground, 

So fettered by the ice and snow 

That sorrowful I turned to go. 



A MARCH INCIDENT. 8i 

Then slowly into life it woke, 
And timidly at first it spoke, 
And one by one cast off its chains, 
Half severed by the recent rains, 
And sudden tinkled forth to greet 
With all its own old music sweet 
The wanderer who so far had come 
And would have grieved to find it dumb. 

So was it given me to see 

Peculiar magic worked for me. 

A trifle ? Oh, of course ! But still, 

What if a heart were like that rill. 

And after winter should at length 

Know spring-time's glorious hope and strength, 

Should feel the green moss droop and dip 

In welcome, and the loosened slip 

Of pebbles, see the rootlets stirred 

To action by some mystic word. 

And watch the first brave robins fly 

Across the vivid windy sky, — 

What if 'twere yours, this happy heart 

Thus strangely called to bear a part 

In Spring's entrancing glow and gleam ? 

That does not such a trifle seem ! 



82 THISTLE DOWN. 



A LARGE CONTRACT. 



OHE came to tell, that maiden mild, 
*^ Of her engagement and its bliss. 
How fortune so serenely smiled 

That she could every fear dismiss, — 
I did not undeceive the child, 

And only answered with a kiss. 



Oh, love's supremest hardihood ! 

How bravely women undertake 
To win from utter evil good 

Though failure dire fore-doomed to make. 
With this addition understood. 

Their hearts must in the effort break ! 

A man who only lived to roam 

In mad carousals, God knows where, 

Must learn from her to bide at home. 
Content with tea and muffins there, 

Nor hunger for the honeycomb. 
The wine, the oil of Egypt fair. 



A LARGE CONTRACT. 83 

And he who swears he never met 
A woman faithful, true and pure, — 

She must persuade him to forget 

Those wicked lies, and make him sure 

That she at least will love him yet 
While ever moon and stars endure. 

The poisoned wounds that lawless strife 
To this most reckless brawler gave 

She must bind up, and all her life. 
From marriage-altar to the grave. 

Unto the sacred name of wife 

Must add the galling one of slave. 

And if amid this cursed lot 

One friendship should become a source 
Of fitful comfort, grudge her not 

That brief, bright respite, since of course 
The end is but a pistol-shot. 

Or shamed retirement of divorce. 

Ah, well ! I must not woe forecast 

For that poor creature quite so soon, — 

Who knows but Hymen may at last 
Have learned to sing some other tune ? 

My mood prophetic having passed, 
I'll send her roses, cup and spoon ! 



THISTLE DOWN. 



CAPRICE. 



T ET me be done with thee, 

Let me forget 
All thou hast taught to me, 

Even regret, — 
Oh, I am weary of 

Life and its joys. 
And thy once precious love 

Only annoys. 



So I dismiss it all, — 

Hark to that bird, — 
Why in its fluting call 

Is thy name heard ? 
I will forget — the breeze 

Lets me not speak, 
Telling of thee in these 

Airs on my cheek. 

If I forget thy kiss 
Haply my heart 

Reft of the stormy bliss 
Thy lips impart, 



CAPRICE. 85 



May learn a blessed peace, 

Quieter grow, 
Give its poor slave release, 

Beating more slow. 

But if I should forget, 

Would not the sun 
For me forever set, 

Daylight be done ? 
Would not the roses cease 

Redly to blow ? 
Oh, I desire no peace, 

Winning it so ! 



86 THISTLE DOWN. 



TO HIM THAT HATH. 



T T OW blest was I, in that my way 

"*■ ■*• Went now through glen, now sylvan glade, 

Through dells with rippling bird-song gay. 

Where tiny brooks blithe music made. 
And many a timid woodland bloom 

Stole into being as I passed, 
And each its delicate perfume 

Did tenderly upon me cast. 



And when so many flowers I had, 

Within my arms a fragrant weight. 
That I was tired of being glad, 

And thought of others' sad estate. 
Then, even then. Life, gliding near, 

Did pause to kiss me and to say, 
"My child, each hour thou art more dear,- 

Take thou the gift I bring today ! " 



TO HIM THA T HA TH. 87 

I said, *' 1 will not have thy gift, — 

My comrades toiling in the heat, 
Go, try their weary hearts to lift, 

Go, offer them thy guerdon sweet. 
They faint, they fall beneath the sun, 

And have no wish again to rise. 
Not any blossoms have they won. 

And truly they thy boon would prize. 

^'Enough for me these treasures wild 

I culled beside the mossy path," — 
Life smiling answered, ''Know, my child, 

I only give to him that hath ! " 
And smiling ever, on my breast 

Life laid one precious, perfect rose, 
More richly sweet than all the rest, — 

Ay, sweeter than aught else that grows ! 



88 THISTLE DOWN. 



UNANSWERED. 

T S it anything to you, dear, that I love you, 
'*■ That when all the world is still I think of you. 
That I pray the sun and stars may shine above you, 
Would you cherish me and thank me — if you knew ? 

Is it anything to you, dear, that I languish 
Alone and desperate my whole life through, — 

Would you care to change for rapture all my anguish. 
Would you pity me and help me — if you knew ? 



A PREFERENCE. 89 



A PREFERENCE. 



FULL oft when I a vigil keep 
To search the sky's unfathomed deep, 
I fancy that the Will Divine 
Which taught yon brilliant orbs to shine, 
Decreed to every glittering star 
A gifted race more godlike far 
Than men, whose thoughts are crystal clear, 
Whose pure hearts lodge not pain or fear, 
Whose kingly deeds are nobly done, 
Whose heaven even at birth is won. 
Whose lives serenely glide away, 
Unvexed by passion, crime, decay; — 
While our poor hapless world alone 
Was doomed to sweat and toil and groan. 
To stagger 'neath a load of pain. 
Besmirched with many a blood stain. 
Despairing victim of a curse. 
The charnel of the universe ! 



90 THISTLE DOWN. 

Yet, Earth, my Earth, I'd rather be 

One of the wretches cumbering thee, 

To share their agony and sin. 

If only so my soul might win 

That joy which, childlike, will not go 

Where comes not first her sister, woe, — 

That rapture sweet beyond all praise 

Because so brief a time it stays, — 

Thy kindest lesson, Earth, is this: 

Who knows not anguish, knows not bliss ! 



LIVINGSTON COUNTY. 91 



LIVINGSTON COUNTY. 



C~\ DEAR New Scotland, why so long have I 
^-^^ Discoursed of very trifles, and delayed 
To sing the vistas that within thee lie, 

The dark clear brooks, the forest's moss and shade, 
The gentle hill-slopes bathed in purple mist. 

The scarlet-jeweled orchard's fragrant yield. 
The trees by Autumn into glory kissed. 

The wide gold stretch of many a fertile field ? 



Behold the reason : Truly overmuch 

I worship thee, and as a lover grows 
Bewildered, silent, at his lady's touch. 

While all his mind in passion's channel flows. 
When I thy zephyrs breathe, thy streamlets drink, 

And see thy skies bend o'er me blue and bright, 
I feel so much I not at all can think. 

My heart so dances that I cannot write ! 



92 THISTLE DOWN. 



THREE DAYS. 



A DAY when sunlight's glory rolled 
■^^^ Upon the earth in molten gold, 
When scarlet haws like coral glowed 
Mid crimson cornel by the road, 
And milkweed shed its silky snow 
With fragile thistle down to go 
Aloft, like ghosts of birds that fly 
Not under an October sky. 



A day of wind, when forest trees 
Breathed, low or loud, weird harmonies, 
And fallen leaves in maddest haste 
Along the frosty pathway raced, 
And it was good to be alive. 
Against the gay bold wind to strive, 
And feel the merry blood outleap 
The swift leaves in their onward sweep. 



THREE DA YS. 93 

A day of rain, gray gentle rain, 
That gemmed the sweet briar in the lane, 
And gathered mist wreaths velvet soft 
To waver over copse and croft. 
And veiled the outlines of the hills, 
And swelled the murmur of the rills. 
While arid fields grew richly moist. 
And late-sown winter wheat rejoiced. 

And all the sweet hours of the three 
Were as one thought, dear heart, of thee ! 



94 THISTLE DOWN. 



A COMPLAINT. 

XT O, no, I will not speak it, — there's no sense 
•^ In fretting over ills one cannot cure. 

And after all so slight is your offense, 

That haply I can still awhile endure, — 
Yes, even patiently unto the end 

I will conceal it, — you shall never know 
The hurt that, knowing, you could never mend, 

The lack in all my life that grieves me so. 

You thought I was quite happy ? That is it, — 

No, no, I will not tell, — well, if I must. 
It is that I'm too happy, — it were fit 

Some blow should smite me to the bitter dust. 
For how can human creature chastened grow 

Like me forever cherished and caressed ? 
Naught but the cruel discipline of woe 

Can rouse to action powers unconfessed. 

My friends all undergo much more than I, 

Poor women ! some are widows, — though of course 

I would not for a moment you should die, 
Yet why not try the anguish of divorce ? 



A COMPLAINT. 95 

And not precisely would I have you rob, 
Or murder, gamble, forge, or even drink, 

Yet Oh, my heart exultantly would throb 

If somehow it might dwell on misery's brink ! 

I am so jealous when I daily read 

The strange adventures other wives go through ; 
They nobly suffer, and I also need 

More than the happiness I win from you. 
I'm tired of being happy, — could you not 

Somewhere upon the road your kindness leave, — 
Forsake, despise, revile me, curse the lot 

That linked us, and so teach me how to grieve ? 



96 , THISTLE DOWN. 



HEAVEN. 

A^TE dream, sometimes, of that dim far-off land, 

* Our journey's end, our home, our second birth ; 
We only dream, — we cannot understand 

That wondrous riddance of the woes of earth. 
No failure there, no loss and no decay, 

No tempest, but clear shining after rain ; 
Like mists, life's myriad cares shall fade away. 

While all good things we knew on earth remain. 

The singer's voice in sweeter strains shall rise, 

The poet's verse in nobler numbers flow, 
Fair landscapes wait the painter's raptured eyes, 

And gazers on the stars at last shall know 
The very heart of all their mysteries. 

And Nature's faithful lovers shall not end 
Their lifelong quest of blossoms, birds and bees, 

But placid hours in peaceful woodcraft spent. 

They who on earth were doomed to dwell 

In crowded cities' heavy stifling air. 
May wander through a cool and ferny dell 

Beside fresh waters fringed with flowers rare. 



HE A VEN. 97 

The pale and shrunken victims of disease, 

And they who writhed beneath the lash of pain. 

Shall healing find in every passing breeze, 

And all their pristine bounding strength regain. 

The worker's worn and weary hands shall rest, 

The bent back straighten in a gracious ease. 
The heart cease aching in the mourner's breast, — 

The baffled student then may grasp the keys 
Of soul and sense and many a mighty truth. 

And they who faint with age — life's last, worst ill — 
Shall quaff the spring of sweet eternal youth, 

And face the long, fair future, children still. 



98 THISTLE DOWN. 



PORCELAIN PAINTING. 

■pvAINTILY shell-shaped is the cup, 
^^ A feather's weight as I hold it up, 
Frail as a bubble, creamily white, — 
Fairies fashioned a thing so slight. 

Mine is the task, with subtle skill 

And loving labor, to change at will 

This snowdrop's hue to a lovely sheen 

Of delicate color, — faintest green. 

Like grass in earliest spring-time seen, 

Tenderest lavender, palest pink. 

Or the melting blue that makes one think 

Of August skies ; and then you know. 

Round it a spray of flowers must go, — 

The daisy stars that gemmed our way 

Through the warm wide fields one happy day, 

The lily we found in the little pond, 

^\iQ fleur-de-lis of the marsh beyond. 

The scarlet sumach's leaves, that stood 

Sentinel at the edge of the wood. 

The velvety moss, the maples red, 

Or fragile and fluttering ferns instead. 

Or some rich rose's crimson gloom, 

Or sweet confusion of apple bloom. 



PORCELAIN PAINTING. 99 

And so whenever I drink my tea, 
My cup shall always bring to me — 
Though loud abroad the north winds blow, 
And wildly whirls the driven snow — 
A thought of the summer ceased to be. 



THISTLE DOWN. 



AT DEATH'S DOOR. 

THE COWARD. 

' ' T SHUDDER at the frightful brink, 

The gasping plunge, the icy wave, — 
In all my quivering flesh I shrink 

The slow cold horror of the grave. 
Dim ghosts wait on yon shrouded shore. 

Their hope, sense, spirit, quenched in death, — 
Gray, helpless ghosts forevermore, — 

Oh, God ! I dare not die ! " one saith. 

THE TOILER. 

'* Fain would I sleep and be at rest, 

But whence would come my children's bread? 
Dear wife, dear baby at her breast. 

What fate were theirs if I were dead ? 
If but an hour my labor cease, 

The wolf comes howling nearer by, — 
Not yet for me death's holy peace, — 

No, no ! Lord, help me not to die ! " 



AT DEATH'S DOOR. loi 



THE SPINSTER. 



" Thou knowest, Lord, my life hath not 

Like others with love's radiance glowed, - 
I scarce remember one bright spot 

Along the weary, dusty road. 
If looking backward one could know 

One's heart with joy had once beat high, 
'Twere easy then, methinks, to go, — 

I have not lived, — Oh, must I die? " 

THE VILLAIN. 

'* My crime-stained soul is doomed to hell ; 

Oaths foully perjured, friends betrayed. 
Tyrannic burdens, treasons fell, 

The hard-won honor of a maid. 
And cruel murder, last and worst, — 

These strew the earthly path I trod ! 
My writhing victims cry accurst ! 

How shall I face an angry God ? " 

THE POET. 

"To me there came a gift divine 

Of words to help and heal and bless, 
And they are mine and only mine, — 

No other may the message guess. 
My lips are hushed and sealed. Ah, then, 

I may not speak the thrilling, strong. 
Uplifting words God sent to men, — 

And earth is poorer by a song ! " 



THISTLE DOWN. 



THE BRIDE. 



'' O sweet the lilies, sweet the breeze, 

And sweet the sunset's pearl and rose ! 
Hath heaven sweeter things than these ? 

It may be true, — but yet, — who knows ? 
I care not for the higher bliss 

That dwells, they say, yon sky above, — 
O, clasp me — let me feel your kiss — 

And keep me — keep me here, O Love ! ' ' 



A MODEST /REQUEST. 103 



A MODEST REQUEST. 

A N awful fear, my dear, my dear, 
'^■^ This faithful breast alarms, — 
That death one day will come this way, 

And snatch you from these arms. 
I do not ask an irksome task, 

Nor set my wishes high, 
I only pant to hear you grant 

The promise not to die ! 

Go where you please, across the seas, 

I'll meekly bear the pain. 
Alone, forlorn, the mark of scorn, 

I will not once complain. 
And should you flirt, 'tis my desert, 

I'll never breathe a sigh. 
But O my sweet, I still entreat, 

Do anything but die ! 

Oh, quite forget we ever met. 

And laugh my memory down. 
Or even worse, you may rehearse 

My faults to all the town, 
Unkindly speech your accents teach, 

And frowning pass me by, 
I'll bear your sneer, my dear, my dear, 

But Oh, you must not die ! 



104 THISTLE DOWN. 



TWO FRIENDS. 

T IKE sail to wretched castaway, 
-*-^ Like manna to the Israelites, 
Like sunshine in a sullen day, 

Like bracing air of Alpine heights, 
This true and noble friend of mine 

Who makes each day a triumph-song, 
Who pours life's richest ruby wine, 

And bids me drink and so be strong. 

The other — never little child 

Did breathe at night more plaintive cry 
Than doth this soul unreconciled 

For light and help, and swiftly I 
Come running with a tender kiss 

And hush to peace this friend of mine, 
Who would not my fond soothing miss 

For angels' ministry divine. 

So dear, so dear my friends to me, 
I scarce know which may dearer be ! 



AN INJUNCTION. 105 



AN INJUNCTION. 



T AM haunted by the story 
-■■ How one called to die 
Sternly bid a spectre gory 

From his bed to fly, — 
*'A11 too soon the curse is sent me 

To avenge my crime, — 
Devil ! why would ye torment me 

Thus before the time ? ' ' 



Oh, the morning mists are shifting 

Up the meadows fair, — 
Scent of ripened apples drifting 

On the mellow air, 
Birds are still their carols trolling 

In a silver chime, — 
Winter ! come not this way strolling 

Thus before the time ! 



io6 THISTLE DOWN. 

Oh, my heart is blithesome, dearest, 

Let me sing and smile. 
Tell me not of all thou fearest 

For a little while, — 
Let us linger till tomorrow 

In this pleasant clime, — 
I am brave, but would not sorrow 

Thus before the time ! 



STEADFASTNESS. 107 



STEADFASTNESS. 

'H^IS but a faint weak heart requires 

-■■ The constant tendance of its fires, 
Demanding they should aye be nursed 
By that poor wight who lit them first, 
With oil of praise, with fanning breath 
That comes when loving words one saith. 
With fuel of benignant deeds, 
Of wants foreseen^ and granted needs, — 
And if one hour's neglect ensue 
The guardian dearly it shall rue ! 
Almost a worthless heart, I wis. 
Is such a timid one as this. 
That lets the blaze sink to a spark, 
And trembles in its self-made dark. 



But it was in a stronger frame 

God made me, and the precious flame 

Within my breast myself can feed 

Forever, knowing not the need 

Of reassurance nor the bliss 

Of close embrace and ardent kiss. 



io8 THISTLE DOWN. 

Speak, or be silent ! 'tis all one, — 
Behind the cloud still shines the sun, 
And did I love a vanished star 
Still would I know that not so far 
It could withdraw beyond my ken 
I should not win it back again. 

Through lonely nights and toilsome days 
With patience will I watch the blaze, 
And sometime — sometime! tired and cold. 
You, wandering across the wold, 
Shall marvel at the beacon bright, 
And seek at last its warmth and light ! 



IN THE DARK. 109 



IN THE DARK. 

^~PHE rayless dark of doubt and fear, 

-*■ Where day dawns not to banish night, 
And no voice whispers words of cheer. 
And hearts chill with a nameless fright. 

How long unfaltering, Oh, how long 
Shall mortals trust beyond their ken ? 

'' For years — forever ! " saith the song, — 
Ah, no ! That were for gods, not men ! 

The lamp of faith, untended, burns 

But dim and flickers dead, — then hark ! 

The bravest heart despairing yearns 
To list a love-word through the dark ! 



no THISTLE DOWN. 



A FOUNDLING. 



''T^WAS a simple idea of mine 

I desired not to cherish and keep, 
I esteemed it not pretty or fine, 

So I hastened to hush it to sleep. 
And I left it I scarcely know where 

On the road in a ragged shawl rolled, 
Little recking how ill it might fare, 

If it hungered or perished with cold. 



But another, ah me ! at its moan 

Gave it love and the warmth of her breast, 
And so fair and so high it has grown. 

In her laces and broideries dressed, 
That the people are wild in their praise 

Of the exquisite charm of the thought, 
And in future a chaplet of bays 

May be hers for the work she hath wrought. 

And the forfeited motherhood stirs 
In my heart, and I long to exclaim 

''It is mine, it is mine, and not hers, — 
Give it back ! ' ' But I cannot for shame. 



THE LODGERS. 



THE LODGERS. 

pOOR PRIDE ! I well could pity thee 
''- I nursed within my bosom warm, 
Not deeming thou shouldst ever be 
Cast out into the bitter storm. 

But now comes Love, and seeks my breast, 
And begs, and will not be denied, — 

Too small for him the house at best, 

And so — farewell, farewell, poor Pride ! 



THISTLE DOWN. 



THE ALTERNATIVE. 

"\ ^ riLL you grow old and be the sport 

Of grinding aches and pinching pains, 
With failing mind and memory short, 
And wasted flesh and shrunken veins ? 

Or do you think that now to die 

Less hateful were than growing old, — 

Beneath a brown wet weight to lie 
Forever in the creeping mold ? 



THE DIVISION. 113 



THE DIVISION. 

"P ACH day my hours thus portioned be, 
^^^ For weary duties twenty-three, 
And but one short sweet hour for thee. 

Unequal share ! I wonder why 
Reversed the balance may not lie, 
Nor life drag thus distorted by ! 

And yet so richly is it blest, 
That season brief, divinest, best, 
Its fragrance perfumes all the rest ! 



114 THISTLE DOWN. 



THE RAIMENT. 

A /T ANY a thought unmeetly bold 
^ Wears the sonnet's cloth of gold, 

Meriting the quatrain's four 
Linen foldings and no more. 

Yet "fine feathers make fine birds," — 
Great the charm of Tyrian words, — 
Trivial thoughts superbly dressed 
Often queen it with the best. 



GRIM APS FAIRY TALES. 



GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES. 

T^^HREE times the book aloud I read 

^ At eve by Laurie's little bed, 
And grew to love as well as he 
The stories of the grateful bee, 
Twin brothers, lions, hunters, hares. 
Kings' daughters, fiddlers, dancing bears, 
Gnomes, foxes, tailors, golden lakes, 
Glass mountains, castles, and white snakes. 

And more than pleasure's my reward : 

Suggestions so the tales afford, 

That now whene'er I stranded be 

For image or for simile, 

The picture of a haunted wood, 

Of sad enchanted maidenhood, 

Of dragon battling with a knight, 

Of bandit cave's alluring light, 

Or some such fantasy will rise 

Before me, and my need supplies. 

And Laurie, when 'tis read to him, 

Delighted cries, " Why, that's from Grimm ! " 



i6 THISTLE DOWN. 



A PRAYER WITHDRAWN. 

"X XT' HEN that dear grave, which twenty times 

Hath greened and whitened through the year, 
Was starkly new, and pangs most drear 
Did sorely my poor heart-strings rack, 
Each hour I thought, '' From those fair climes 
Where now he dwells, he will come back ! 

*' Some day I shall no longer yearn 
In vain to see my darling's face, 
For swift from out that heavenly place, 
Down-dropping through the limpid air. 
Some day he will, he must return, 

And teach me how my pain to bear. 

*' Once more the sweetness of his smile 
Shall lap me in a holy calm. 
And tender words like healing balm 
Shall tell how love outlives the grave, 
And as I list, my soul the while 

Shall peaceful grow, and strong and brave. ' ' 



A PRAYER WITHDRAWN. 117 

An idle hope ! 'Tis mine no more, 
Let not, dear God, that frantic prayer 
Be heard, but keep Thy chosen there, 
In Paradise ! He must not see 
The raven curls all silvered o'er, 

This wreck of what I used to be. 

He would not know me now, in truth ! 
I could not brook that sharp surprise 
Should chill the love-light in his eyes. 
At time's revenges, sorrow's trace, — 
Until death gives me back my youth 
I dare not meet him face to face. 



[i8 THISTLE DOWN. 



A TREASURE. 



pEERLESS my jewel, sure 
-*■ None ever saw 
Pearls so supremely pure, 

White, without flaw, — 
Nay, but I thank thee not, 

Dear, for thy gift, — 
Better the common lot. 

Joyless to drift. 

How can I thank thee, when 

Lonely at night, 
I wake to think again, 

Cold with affright,— 
** Oh, is it still my own. 

Or is it gone?" 
And my heart like a stone 

Lieth till dawn. 



PERFECTION. 



PERFECTION. 



HTHERE is an instant at the end of day 

-*• Wherein the western sky so richly glows 
We wish It might unaltered ever stay 
In such blent harmony of gold and rose. 

O Life ! I pray thee cease thy rapid flight, 
Nor haste to terminate this hour supreme, 

But let me, ere the fall of gloomy night, 
One moment linger in the sunset's gleam ! 



I20 THISTLE DOWN. 



A COQUETTE. 

A GERMAN shepherd falsely cried 
■^^^ " Wolf, wolf ! " until the neighbors ceased 
To heed him, and their aid denied 
When came in fact the savage beast. 

So when a flirt her love doth yield 
And strives to testify her truth, 
The man exclaims, against her steeled, 
'* A clever counterfeit, in sooth ! " 



A RONDEAU. 



A RONDEAU. 



VT'OU loved me once, — Ah, yes ! and though 

■^ 'Twas not for me aside to throw 
Faith, duty, honor, nor to let 
Love's seal upon my heart be set, — 
I smile to think you loved me so ! 



A bud that Fate forbid to blow, — 
An airy dream of long ago, 
So slight, I almost could forget 

You loved me once ! 

Long since, O friend, time's balmy flow 
Your hurt hath mended, and I know 
No cruel image haunts you yet, 
Save Passion's gentle ghost. Regret, 
Who sometimes, haply, murmurs low — 
You loved me once ! 



THISTLE DOWN. 



HINDRANCES. 

A S once a lion in the forest lay, 

Enmeshed in hated bonds that said him, "Nay ! 
Strive not ! you shall not stir, rise, run, or leap. 
But unto death this loathed inaction keep," — 
So I in strangling coils am helpless bound. 
And must forever grovel on the ground. 
Nor seek the fields where fair achievements lie, 
Nor joyous scale the distant mountains high. 

But courage, heart ! faint not ! It yet may be 
A little mouse, Resolve, shall set me free. 



A LIKENESS. 123 



A LIKENESS. 

WHEN one across the sands doth creep, 
And fainteth in brown dusty air, 
And scarce his onward way can keep, 

And scarce can breathe a tortured prayer 
For water, it may come to pass 

That far along the white-hot sand 
There gleams the cool, fresh, green of grass. 
That arid sea's salvation, — Land 1 

And lo ! to bless the verdant plot 

A gurgling streamlet forth doth flow, — 
Why drinks the thirsting wanderer not? 

Why doth he sink in bitter woe? 
Alas ! within its very source 

A loathesome carcass rotting lies, — 
The stream bears poison through its course, — 

'Tis cursed, and he who drinketh dies ! 



124 THISTLE DOWN. 



A LOVE SONG. 

"T^EAR heart, I am so happy, merely stringing 
^^ My daisy-chains of verse the whole day through, 
So happy, though you dream not I am singing, 
Dear heart, dear heart ! to you. 

Mere meadow blossoms are my simple treasures, 

Yet haply they are sweet and wet with dew, 
For tender thoughts are woven in the measures. 
Dear heart^ dear heart ! of you. 

Yet like a child that loves not to be lonely, 

And hastes before a mate its flowers to strew, 
I long to share my happiness, but only. 

Dear heart, dear heart ! with you. 



AFTER THE PARTY. 125 



AFTER THE PARTY. 

T WAS furious when they said 

He^ forsooth, resembled you, — 
Had he such a kingly head, 
Were his eyes one-half as true ? 

No, there was not in his face 

Aught to touch and thrill me through,- 
Why, he lacked the slightest trace 

Of the charm there is in you. 

And they called me over kind. 

Said I even flirted, too, — 
Well, — if so, you need not mind, 

'Twas because he looked like you ! 



126 THISTLE DOWN. 



THE DIFFERENCE. 

/^H, when the meadows lay 
^-^ Silver and black, 
Under Diana's ray, 

What did I lack? 
Was not the crystal sheen 

Heavenly fair ? 
Listless I viewed the scene — 

You were not there. 

And yet a city way 

Sodden and black 
In a chill rainy day, — 

How it comes back ! — 
Though the wind whistled keen 

I did not care, 
I found the day serene 

Since you were there. 



THE TRUTH. xz'j 



THE TRUTH. 

A A 7" HEN all the fancies involute 

Of woman's subtle complex mind 
Do circle to a poet's flute, 

What slightest hope is there to find 
Amid the whirling dancers fleet — 

Who sometimes clash a bit, in sooth, — 
Amid the concourse fair and sweet, 

The calm grave face of utter truth ! 

Can such an one herself decide 

What is or is not in her soul ? 
She feigns lamentings, anger, pride. 

And seeks their horrors to inscroll, 
The while one feeling only stays 

Unchanged in fresh eternal youth : 
There is no hour of all her days 

She fails to love — behold the truth ! 



128 THISTLE DOWN. 



IN A LOOK. 



A LOOK can carry pleased applause, 
"^^ Soft pity's salve may in it lie, 
And oft the wildest tumults pause. 

Rebuked by stern superior eye ; 
A look, poor timid hope can slay. 

Can thrust contempt's keen poisoned lance, 
Can lighten half the toilsome day 

For him who meets a kindly glance. 



And sharper than the clash of swords 

The glance that hate to hate can fling, 
And from the eye of one who hoards 

A secret, oft it taketh wing ; 
A stare can bring the false to shame, 

Can hidden guilt and lies find out. 
Can kindle cravens into flame, 

And put their chilling fears to rout. 



IN A LOOK. 129 

Among light little joys the chief 

It is to change across a throng 
A stolen glance, that, lightning-brief. 

Yet seemeth daringly too long, 
A thrilling gaze that says, *' Take this, 

O dearest heart, to-night in lieu 
Of circling arm and raptured kiss 

And tender words that wait for you ! " 



130 THISTLE DOWN. 



DEATH'S DISTINCTIONS. 



"\ 1 /"OULD not one think that when the pall 

Of sorrow veils our stricken hearts 
We well might suffer once for all 

Whatever anguish death imparts, 
And know that if he comes again 

He will but old past pain renew? 
Ah, no ! he only cometh when 

Some special dart can pierce us through. 



For I remember when she died 

Who was for me the first to go, 
A peerless maiden, that I cried, 

" Can perfect beauty perish so ? " 
And when a man of giant frame 

Dropped lifeless at a single blow, 
I said, " Now strength is but a name, 

And mortal vigor lieth low." 



DEATH'S DISTINCTIONS. 131 

And then death claimed a precious child 

With lovely graces so replete, 
Still is my heart unreconciled 

And childhood no more seemeth sweet, — 
And as with these my dear ones went 

Strength, beauty, sweetness, even so 
Each death must ever represent 

Some one peculiar cause of woe. 



132 THISTLE DOWN. 



FLOWERING CURRANTS. 

A H ! never again their golden bloom 
"^^^ Shall flood the dark with rich perfume, 
But a face shall rise up out of the gloom, 

A face with passionate eyes, — 
And a wonder of mingled joy and pain 
Shall sweep across my dizzying brain. 
And the old, old love I thought was slain 
Once more in its might shall rise ! 



A POOR GIRVS FUNERAL. 133 



A POOR GIRL'S FUNERAL. 

From the French of Auguste Briseux. 

T 1 rHEN fair Louise died in her early bloom, 

A woodflower severed by the wind and rain, 
Not many followed to her humble tomb, — 

A holy father, praying, led the train. 
Then came a youth who gave from time to time 
Low voiced responses in a solemn chime ; — 
A simple boxwood cross, a thread-bare pall. 
Alone adorned her bier, and scarce at all 
The bell was tolled to warn the country-side 
That its most lovely maid had drooped and died, 
For she was poor, and wealth alone hath power 
To lavish honors in the burial hour. 

But when the funeral in the golden morn 

Passed all the shady scented copses by. 
The dewy dells, the fields of broom and corn, 

Then sudden glory April flung on high. 
And showered forth her fragrant starry snows, 

Bathing in tears the verdant woodland way, — 
The hawthorn wore a robe of white and rose, 

A mist of blossoms trembled on each spray, 
And many a bird burst forth in w^elcome song, 
To greet the coffin as it passed along. 



134 THISTLE DOWN. 



WITH LEAVES IN A LETTER. 

T WOULD that I might send to you 
^ Fair tender buds besprent with dew, 
The symbols sweet of spring, instead 
Of these late gleanings dry and dead. 

Yet no, — for these are past decay, 
And as they are they still shall stay, — 
The garnered beauty of the year 
That changes not, I send you, dear. 

And never early bloom did know 
Such dark rich green, such topaz glow, 
Such ruby and impassioned flame 
As to these autumn jewels came. 



THISTLE DOWN. 135 



THISTLE DOWN. 

T T lies before me on my desk, 

A pearly shadow, while I trace 
Its lines in curve and arabesque. 

The lid of my new book to grace. 
But lies no single instant still, — 

At lifted hand, at breath or sigh, 
Its pulsing tremors voice the will 

To flutter forth, to float, to fly. 

Be quiet, darlings ! Many miles 

I carried you to serve this need, 
Nor saucy pleadings, wistful wiles. 

Nor starts impatient do I heed. 
Why, you are not the only things 

Fast bound in duty's heavy chains, — 
I, too, would fly where Autumn flings 

Her largess, and imperial reigns ! 

And yet, you're very frail and white, — 
'Twere sad if you should perish here, 

Nor would I rob the last delight, 

Poor Ariels, from your one sweet year. 



136 THISTLE DOWN. 

And you might haunt me, — some dark day, 

I, musing in a study brown, 
Might hear the Christmas snowflakes say 

'' We are the ghosts of Thistle Down ! " 

A moment yet, — the sketch is done, 
The casement open wide I fling, — 

Wait till I kiss you ! — In the sun 

And laughing breeze go waltz and swing ! 



THE ELMWOOD AVENUE BRIDGE. 137 



THE ELMWOOD AVENUE BRIDGE. 

\fsJ HAT though the wind blows piercing chill ? 
^ ^ The scene is fair enough to keep 
One gazing from this snow-sprent hill 

Upon the water's merry leap 
From quiet lake to stiller pool 

With yellow willows on its brim, 
Where wild red leaves, at last grown cool. 

Among the bubbles slowly swim. 

And mingled with the slight cascade. 

Its laugh, its mimic plunge and roar. 
There comes the clang from pick and spade 

Of those who marry shore and shore ; 
The derrick, with its chains and rings. 

Benignant gallows of our race. 
Like tireless giant lifts and swings 

The chiseled masses into place. 

O brothers, yours the cruel stent 

This bitter dark November day ! 
Small wonder that the back is bent. 

The soul too wearied out to pray, — 
O cutting blast, less fiercely blow. 

And lagging hours, pass swifter by, — 
Come, Night, and let my brothers go 

Within thy kind embrace to lie ! 



138 THISTLE DOWN. 

Yet not for just today you work : 

This noble span that you have wrought — 
And surely pride and joy must lurk 

In such a high inspiring thought ! — 
This graceful curve shall spring as true, 

A plan approved, a valued way, 
The whole long twentieth century through, 

As in its primal strength today. 

How many things instinct with worth 

Are yet but creatures of their age, 
Foredoomed to pass from off the earth 

As do the actors from the stage, — 
How soon our sermons, songs and pleas 

Are hushed forever, quite ignored, — 
We cannot hope the apple trees 

Will mind in spring last autumn's hoard ! 

When lips have lost their coral tint, 

And cheeks are washed with tears and wan. 
When certain books are out of print, 

And I superfluous linger on, — 
Some toiler worn, rheumatic, gray. 

Yet justly proud, upon this ridge 
Shall stand, and to a child shall say : 

'* My dear, your grandpa built that bridge ! 



AT TWILIGHT. 139 



AT TWILIGHT. 



HP HE light is fading, — it is time 

To rest and put the pen away, 
And is there still no haunting rhyme, 
No last word one would wish to say ? 



For me tomorrow may not dawn, 
And it were well if they should find- 

My dearest ones — when I am gone, 
A faint last echo of my mind. 



Why, then, I say — 'Twas very sweet 
Of you to love me in despite 

Of my unworthiness complete, — 

I thank you all, — and so, goodnight I 



SONNETS 



BECALMED. 143 



BECALMED. 

A S in the scorching flame of tropic heat, — 
^ The sun a jewel in the turquoise sky, 
Whose rays, like blows, unceasingly do beat 

The conquered sullen sea, — a ship doth lie 
Becalmed and helpless, while her drooping sails 

Hang gray and heavy on the breathless air ; 
So is my life bereft of all the gales 

That onward sweep mankind to do and dare. 
My sluggish days know not the rushing tide 

Of work, nor biting breeze of adverse fate, 
Nor gusts of high ambition, anger, pride, 

Nor joy's soft zephyrs, nor wild winds of hate,- 
No passion's tempest shakes me like a leaf, 
Nor do I bow beneath the storm of grief. 



144 THISTLE DOWN. 



THE PRISM. 

(~\ FAIR amalgam of harmonious hue ! 

^^ Within the magic of thy tiny round, 
In little, all earth's glories shall be found : 

The sunset's gorgeous flame bursts on the view, 

The skies unfold, inimitably blue, 

Red's martial music sets the pulse abound, 
Wood violets sweetly strew the mossy ground. 

And yellow wheat fields wave, gold ripened through. 

And thou, O keystone color, vernal green ! 

How many a merry memory dost thou bring 
Of maids and knights in fabled forest-scene 

Down Sherwood, Arden, Windsor, wandering, — 
And something in thy emerald ray serene 

Bids '' Hope ! ' ' and bears a blessed hint of spring. 



A DIAMOND, 145 



A DIAMOND. 

IV /[" ID horrid glooms of some chaotic hour 

Lost in the unwrit history of earth, 
A whirled white fire, a mad cyclonic power, 

A pressure vast, terrific, gave thee birth. 
Sunk in black depths tellural didst thou bide 

Age-long, nigh veins of gold, and wast aware 
Of that dread force which mountains fling aside. 

Rising wild- beast like from its unkenned lair, 
To strike the helpless wretched world a-quake. 

Then, toil and risk did daring men endure 
To rive thee from thy secret haunt, and make 

A perfect crystal, dew-bright and flame-pure. 
Were less the time, strength, riches hid in thee, 
Less meet wert thou the lover's gift to be. 



146 THISTLE DOWN. 



INDIFFERENCE. 



A H, chilling, killing, thrice unwelcome guest, 
Who comes unbidden, never to depart ! 
Why must thou sever heart from loving heart. 
And hush life's currents to ignoble rest? 
Thou wilt not suffer in the lover's breast — 
O vile usurping victor that thou art ! — 
Its tender tenants: passion dwells apart. 
Faith fails, love dieth, at thy cold behest. 

A precious boon art thou, a balm, a bliss ! 
The surgeon's vapor, soothing in a breath ! 
Did not thy mercy, like the mists of morn. 
Veil beauty, hide life's treasures, freeze Love's kiss, 
Then were the fear of death a daily death. 
And death a pang too monstrous to be borne. 



THE SWIMMER. 147 



THE SWIMMER. 



T ORD of two elements, with bounding heart, 
•*-^ And tingling blood, and mighty strength of 

limb, 
Stroke after stroke he swiftly- cleaves apart 

The lambent emerald waters bearing him. 
Or diving through the vast, dim under-world. 

He seeks the fabled mermaids hidden there, 
Rising to shake his locks all spray-empearled. 

And draw a long breath of the summer air. 
Again he idly floats a little space, 

Letting the lucent weight of each cool wave, 
Caressing as a kiss, his happy face 

And all his outstretched length of body lave. 
Then from a height with free, exultant spring 
He dives again, and feels himself a king. 



QUATRAINS 



QUATRAINS. 151 



QUATRAINS. 



A WISH. 



T WOULD be as the kindly rain, and not 

Bless but a corner of love's garden-plot, — 
Not lavish all upon the lilies' needs, 
But nourish equally the humblest weeds. 



THE MOTTO. 



A Friday's child am I, and so 

Must ^* Love and Give " my motto make ; 
But these pursuits insipid grow, 

And henceforth I shall hate and take. 



AFTER MUSIC. 



When others of their pleasure spoke. 
And praised the player's brilliant art, 

I said not wild sweet echoes woke, 
And were a song for thee, dear heart. 



BLANK PAPER. 



Fair virgin whiteness, often I desire 

Your rich suggestiveness to laud and thank, 
But presto ! fancy glows with sudden fire, 

And all is spoiled, for you no more are blank. 



152 THISTLE DOWN. 



WOMAN S LOVE. 



I fancy not the symbol old 

Of clinging vine and sturdy tree, — 
How oft within the strangling fold 

The forest monarchs murdered be ! 



A LETTER. 



A purple wine wherein are blent 

The summer's garnered bloom and scent, - 

Once and again I quaff my fill, 

Yet lo ! the goblet's brimming still ! 



CONSCIENCE. 



When dogs are sleeping, let them quiet sleep. 
Lest wakened, at thy throat they furious leap ; 
Walk warily, for fear the surly hound 
Called conscience rouse and drag thee to the ground. 

LIMITATIONS. 

As birds not fast enough can pour the notes 
Of love and joy from out their tiny throats, 
The sprites of fancy chase each other so, 
To capture them the pen is all too slow ! 



CONSOLED. 



Ah, yes, all pain is over now, — no more 

I suffer as I did in days of yore, — 

Then why tliese tears that flow like summer rain ? 

Come back, come flying back, O sweet past pain ! 



QUATRAINS. 153 

SELF-SUFFICING. 

Let others seek the stress of worldly strife 

Or fairer haunts where pleasure wields control, 

Enough for me the thrill of plainest life, 
The rages, raptures, sorrows of my soul. 

PURITY. 

A rose or butterfly is good 

To tear to pieces, thinks the boy ; 

The vestal calm of maidenhood 
Man seeketh only — to destroy. 

A COMET. 

Past thought thy orbit's width, yet not so vast 
Thou wilt not whirl once more into our ken, — 

And I, left darkling, shall at last — at last 
A dearer vanished light perceive again ! 

A FAIR DAY. 

pulsing warmth of green and gold and blue, 

1 cannot frame the ode that is thy due. 
And of thy beauty in the after-time 
Naught shall remind me save this tiny rhyme. 

A RAINY DAY. 

No friendly foot today shall cross the sill. 

The birds and bees in sheltered nooks are still, 

But fearing not to visit me through storm. 

The swift sweet thoughts about me wheel and swarm. 



154 THISTLE DOWN, 



MUTABILITY. 



That woman is a thing of moods 
Is the most trite of platitudes, 
Yet freshly striking, since today 
A boon long craved I fling away. 



THE FIRST DUTY. 



You remember great Agassiz's answer sublime 
When advised to make money — '' I haven't the time !' 
Even so, why in labor life should we employ, 
Since we haven't half time enough just to enjoy? 



LOVE. 



O perfect rapture, ultimate, supreme ! 

What miracle of ecstasy is this. 
That mortals should thy sharpest tortures deem 

Delight more precious than a lower bliss ? 



AUTHORSHIP. 



Some pens there are whose work is all a lie 
Against the human race and God on high ; 
Or if by chance some truth they ever tell, 
So bitter is it, silence were as well. 



VERSE AND PROSE. 



As pearls and diamonds are not fitly set 
In silver, but demand the richest gold, 

So may man's meaner thoughts in prose be met, 
His noblest ones do but in verse unfold. 



QUATRAINS. 155 

PARALYSIS. 

A fell disease doth bind the frame 

More fast than casket lid of lead, — 
*Tis cruel when that sickness' name 
. Befits the mind's estate instead ! 

COUNTER CURRENTS. 

Alas, poor poets ! theirs the fate, I ween. 

Of ships adrift and helpless, doomed one day 

To utter more than mortal man could mean, 
The next, to mean more than a god could say ! 

CALAMITY. 

'* The worst has happened ! " did he sigh. 
And feared to tell the tidings drear, — 

** Nay, not the worst, dear love ! " quoth I, 
'' Since you can speak and I can hear ! " 

THE WEAPON. 

Long since a bee did pierce with mortal sting 

The jointed armor of a human foe. 
And scarce a larger dagger do I bring. 

The world's indifference seeking to lay low. 

SURRENDER. 

E'en as a warrior, bloody from the fray. 
His broken sword despairing casts away. 
Forever from the ranks of struggling men 
I beaten sink, and drop my worthless pen. 



156 THISTLE DOWN. 

THE RAISING OF THE DEAD. 

I smile to hear the scoffer falsely say 

That never corpse again to life did rise, — 

No less a miracle, O love, today 

The waking of my heart beneath thine eyes ! 

A SPENDTHRIFT. 

Close, close he clasps his store of common gold, 
The sordid yield of traffic's noisy mart. 

But spurns aside as worthless wealth untold, 
The gift of God, a true devoted heart. 



OPEN SESAME 



A rock-hewn cave, its inner secret wall 

Lit with the diamond's flash, the ruby's flame, 

A stubborn portal shut and barred to all 

Save one who breathes a certain mystic name. 



A SUICIDE. 



Could he but sell that which he casts away, 
This man of life's sweet self a-weary grown, 

A million times the wealth of famed Cathay 

Were his, and kings would crawl before his throne. 



A PROOF. 



They say that truth is precious, — I believe 
The maxim by this simple proof: we grieve 
And agonize o'er trifling missives not at all, 
But truth-filled letters hunger to recall. 



QUATRAINS. 157 



IN AN ALBUM. 



When Adam into being came 
He gave the creatures each a name,- 
'Tis otherwise we moderns do, 
We haste to give our names to you. 



AN IDLE DAY. 



O utter blank, devoid of thoughts and null. 
How have I borne thy stagnant passage dull? 
Yet hush complaining, — many a life I know 
Entirely lapsing colorless and slow. 

THE ARROW. 

Just now a venomed shaft was sent 
From envy's quiver to my heart. 

But panoplied in calm content 
I never felt the futile dart. 

MY PETS. 

With fond caress I do not court 

Dumb things to dwell within my sight. 

Wee elfin fancies only sport 

Around me, and are my delight. 

GOOD-WILL. 

I thank Thee, God, no drop of gall 
Ferments and curdles in my heart ; 

The sweet earth's wide enough for all, 
I grudge not any man his part. 



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